Chapter 20
Light
Damon is difficult to get to know, considering the almost impenetrable mask he wears to hide his feelings from the world. Most of the time, he chooses what he allows others to see. This is enviable but also frustrating.
With time, however, I have found a little loophole in that iron-clad facade. His body. It slips his control and betrays him subtly, only noticeable to those he allows close. Which is few and far between.
There were little inflections in his voice that could be missed or micromovements in his body, his muscles, such as just now when he tensed ever so slightly.
The cause is the woman on the other side of the table, Damon’s gaze so piercing as he stares at her that I bristle under its penetration.
My eyes drift over to her, and once again, her icy blue orbs are locked on me.
There is no mistaking the look in their depths.
Pure hate. It is outwardly reflected in the sneer that contorts her face, making her look…
psychotic, really. There is no other word that encompasses it.
It re minds me of that movie with Jack Nickolson, The Shining.
Even more disturbing is the millisecond for that look to be replaced with a sickly sweet one. She is the epitome of a high-class lady as Luciano arrives at the table.
His arrival signals the onslaught of white and black as smartly dressed waiters and waitresses peel through the doors, carrying trays of appetizers.
“She doesn’t like me very much. Is there a history between you and her that I should know?” I whisper, leaning towards Damon so that only he can hear me.
“Not one you should be jealous of.” His answer doesn’t really give much away.
I was hoping for more. Perhaps a denial that they have been physical, which sits at the top of my question pile when it comes to them.
It is jealousy. I recognize it as that and also know it’s ridiculous that I should feel this way about Damon's past sexual encounters. Which I don’t doubt were plentiful, considering his breathtaking skill in that department.
But it’s also the picture in his office, the one he has kept as if it had sentimental value. For a man so guarded and hard to faze, his keeping it was a big thing.
“Do you remember asking me about the tattoo on my bicep?” I nod but keep quiet. This is the first time he is willingly divulging something about himself. I didn’t want to ruin it with my words.
“The man it is in memory of, the man who is dead, his name was Nicolo Scarva.”
Wait, what? My eyes drift over to the psycho on the other side of the table, who is thankfully in deep conversation with Luciano.
“Julia was his wife. She took the whole ‘until death do us part’ section of their vows into her own hands. Never proved, of course.” My hand flies to my mouth to stifle the gasp that escapes at the shocking news, the blood draining from my face.
Damon did not seem like a man who fabricated stories, and his look was deathly serious.
“I don’t keep the picture as a fond sentimental token. I keep it as a reminder of just how dangerous Julia can be and what she is capable of.”
I don’t even have a chance to respond as we are interrupted by a waiter who places food in front of us before swiftly disappearing. I’m reeling from this story. We were sitting at a table with a murderer—someone who had taken the life of another.
“We never slept together.” Damon's confession snaps my gaze to him.
“I never thought that. I don’t care if you did.” My face flames, and my ears ignite as I lie.
He smirks.
“You care. In the same way thoughts of other men having you first make me want to go back in time and make sure they never existed just so that I could be your first.”
Once again, his words leave me speechless. All I can do is stare at this gorgeous man whose words, as disturbing as they are, convey his feelings for me in a nontraditional way.
“Eat up. You need your strength for tonight.” He points to the plate in front of me, and I am pleasantly surprised to find that it is a vegetarian option of celeriac medallions with truffled puree and pickled cauliflower.
“I sent in your dietary requirements over a week ago.” Speechless is my state of being for the night as I look at Damon, this sentence thrown out into existence like it is nothing. I don’t even think he realizes how much meaning I put into them.
This is overly presumptuous on his part, but I expect no less from him.
And instead of making me feel scared by these assumptions, these unexpected and utterly controlling gestures make me feel special.
I realize this feeling is born in the knowledge that he is rarely like this with anyone.
As such, it makes that feeling I am starting to adore too much to burst forth. He makes me feel special.
“You knew then that I would be your date?” He leans forward and picks up one of the bite-sized morsels on my plate.
“Of course.” His voice is low and sensual as he holds the canapé close to my mouth.
“Open.” Damn. His commands have a direct link to my core, which similarly obeys as moisture pools in my panties. At this rate, I was going to end up embarrassing myself.
When did I become this woman?
I open my mouth, and he inserts the little delicatessen, his eyes locked on my lips. How is everything with him so damn erotic.
“You’re very sure of yourself,” I whisper, trying to diffuse the sexual tension by popping another in my mouth.
“So, Sienna, how did you two meet?” Luciano draws our attention, and suddenly, all eyes are on us. I swallow with difficulty, my hand flying up to cover the spluttering while Damon rubs my back.
“We met at the gym,” I finally say, once composed.
“At Mike’s Gym?” Julia asks incredulously.
“Yes, that’s the one,” I confirm, as her gaze darts to Damon’s.
“You said it was full. You declined my application.” The accusation in her tone matches the death glare she is giving Damon. However, that isn’t what is most surprising.
“You declined her application? I don’t understand. What has that got to do with you?” Before Damon can answer, a shrill laugh from Julia draws my attention back to her.
“He owns the gym, sweetie.” Her condescending tone, coupled with her words, diverts the blood away from my face. For the second time this evening and with her at the root of both.
He owns Mike’s Gym.
“For someone supposedly so close to Damon, you know so little.” Julia's words cut through the not wholly healed scab of insecurity I have been nursing since meeting Damon, the wound bursting open as if it had just been sustained.
“You own Mike’s Gym?” So many thoughts rush through me, mainly why he never told me.
“On paper. But Big Mike runs everything. My main role is financing the place and working out there.” Damon’s words are directed at me while his gaze is on Julia. One that would have anyone else wilting under it. She just looks amused, the smirk on her face alluding to as much.
His gaze moves from her to me, softening as usual when he looks at me.
“Don’t let her succeed in what she is trying to achieve. I didn’t keep that information from you. It just never came up.”
This is typical of him. But I never asked, and I think if I did, he would have told me. But if that is the case, what else hasn’t he told me that ‘just hasn’t come up’ or hasn’t been disclosed merely because I didn’t ask?
“Well, as much as I’d love to stay here and let Julia try her best to create cracks between us, a futile effort, might I add, as nothing will pull me from Sienna’s side, it’s time for us to dance.”
Marcello and Lucy snicker, and for a change, Julia's face pales, and I like it. The part inside me, a new part that instantly dislikes people, like the woman across from me, forces me to smile.
“Indeed. I think a dance with my man is just what I need.” Damon, who has already risen, holds his hand out for me to take, which I do. As I rise, he pulls me towards him, my front colliding with his so that there is no space between us.
His fisted hand grazes the underside of my chin before applying gentle pressure, tilting my head upward.
Then he kisses me. It lacks the ferocity I am accustomed to.
But it is so sweet. So gentle. So utterly consuming in another way.
He wants everyone to see, and they do. It's possessive, and I love it.
When he is done, he moves us forward and then spins me around so I land beside him. With our hands clasped, we walk away from the table and the eyes that feel like they are burning the skin on my back. Fuck, that was intense.
Less than ten couples are on the dance floor, but I don’t care. I would rather be here than at the table. Damon's words about Julia rang in my head, and while I know she is just trying to get between us, the stuff it has brought up is valid.
“Eyes on me, rainbow.” His voice draws my gaze as we sway to the romantic music drifting through the air.
“Use your words. What’s going on?” I search his dark chocolate eyes and then follow the scar which I barely notice anymore.
Where would it leave us once I started asking?
And if I didn’t? Was I happy continuing like this?
Not knowing and not asking questions for fear of what it could do to us.
Was what we had that fickle? Dread pools in my stomach at the thought of the answer being yes.
I didn’t want this to end with Damon. But I also need to know what else he hasn’t told me.
“I’m scared that once I start asking you, you will start pulling away from me and that it will lead to the end of this.” Honesty. I give him that because it is all I have to offer right now.
He looks at me for a long time before answering.